I Still Feel It
Thinking about it makes me feel as though someone has me hemmed up with a forearm in my throat
Choked up...
A lush grapevine tarps the western property line... a thousand shades of green
The vegetable garden is situated in the southeast corner, adorned with true hues of red, yellow, and orange
I see her...a vision
Tending to her tomatoes
A sun-bleached yellow bandana drapes her exposed and sensitive scalp
She looks up at me with pride in her eyes, and sweat on her brow How did she muster the energy to work in the yard after all she's been through?
Her energy was always a mystery
Life had taken her health and hair, but it never took her spirit
I still feel it
The World Outside My Window
#growingup
As I open the curtains, my eyes slowly adjust to the sun just beginning to creep up over the snow capped mountain tops in the distance. At that moment, the very same sun, like a ball of flame leaping from a fire pit laced with gasoline, engulfs my vision bringing miraculous clarity to the world outside! The beaming light creating a vibrant color palate over God’s great masterpiece that can only be described as majestic! What remains of the night combined with the ever present dawn paints an array of purples, oranges, and blues across the sky as if Picaso had just finished his final painting, so good, he would decide never to pick up another brush. The lake is calm and dark, yet so peaceful as it calls to me with each small wave that sloshes against the shoreline. The cars travel swiftly across the cold steel and concrete of the I-90 bridge, almost like they were running from the doom that came from this magnificent morning already upon them. The breeze, in it’s invisible gentle way, lightly breathes on the trees outside. The giants, clothed in leaves of green, seemingly dance and sway ever so slowly to the seductive song which that very same breeze sings to them. Not even the white of the snow covering the mountains a far looks ordinary. This is what I’ll picture in my minds eye as I harken back to the homestead of my youth. Yes, my memory will recall the majestic mornings as I started another day on this journey called life. I will forever remember the world outside my window.
A Memory.
The grass is more yellow than green; unattended.
There's a white house across the broken pavement sits unattended to.
A once white picket fence sits yellowing, standing out against the faded gray of the used sidewalk.
Leaves have fallen; the green fading into a reddish brown. They lay crumbled and broken due to the many pairs of shoes that have drifted over them.
But my tree stands tall. I've climbed this tree countless times and those worn branches still hold up to this day.
I spy
memories have been overgrown and nothing is quite as it was once known
I spy with my little eye
the claw foot bathtub
collecting rainwater beneath the tree we used to climb
catching fairies to keep in our pockets
ours was a childhood unmuddled
I spy with my little eye
ivy conquering the skeleton of our swing set
vines twisting around rotting wood
bruised knees from flying too high begin to hurt again
skinned elbows from poorly timed leaps are once again sore
childhood shouldn't hurt like this
childhood should remain unmuddled
I spy with my little eye
the ghosts of our youth hand in hand
mountains of green tremble in the wind and I think maybe I spy our happiness here
maybe
this is where we left it
but I can't find it without you
for you are my playmate forever